Bulma woke up in with a start the next morning. 'Where am I,' she thought. She felt Vegita move under her and quickly looked at him. 'What the...' Then it all came back to her. Looking down at her ankle, Bulma was still trying to comprehend how Vegita was so gentle. 'What is this, when I'm fine, he hates me, but when I'm hurt, he's all of the sudden sweet and caring?' Bulma asked herself. 'Heh, well, just proves that I need to get hurt more often.' Being as careful as she could not to awaken to sleeping saiyan, Bulma rolled over and stood up. She bit her lip, as it still hurt like hell to put any weight on her ankle. Using the bed as a crutch, she managed to wobble over to bathroom. Once in there, Bulma opened the cabinet and pulled out an ankle cast that still allowed her to walk with it on. After putting it on, she walked downstairs.
"Dangit woman! My breakfast is supposed to be done before I wake up!" Vegita's voice boomed out to Bulma as she cooked at the stove. Bulma shook her head, not turning around. "Well, excuse me for not being perfect. We all can't be the great Vegita-san, ya know!" Bulma shot back. Vegita's laugh answered her with no words. The silence remained until Bulma finished his breakfast, gave it to him, grabbed her jacket, and headed out the door. "Where are you going, woman?" "Out!" The door slammed behind Bulma, leaving Vegita to sit there and watch her go through the window.
"Eggs..milk...ice cream..." Bulma murmured to herself as her eyes scanned her shopping list. Sighing, she grabbed the stuff from the shelves and put them in her cart. 'Why does her have to it a cow's monthly supply of food in a day?' Her eyes still flickered on the list as she turned the corner to the next isle. SMACK! Bulma's list went one way as she went another. "Oh, I'm sorry! Are you alright?" A concerned voice asked her. "Yea, I'm fine, I'm sorry, it was my fault, I wasn't paying attention..." Bulma droned on as the stranger helped her up. "I'm sorry," she said again before turning around to get her list. "Bulma..." the soft voice froze her in her tracks. She hadn't heard that voice in five years, but she still recognized it as plain as day. Her stomach began to churn as she slowly turned around. When she saw a pair of grassfield-green eyes staring back at her, Bulma was sure she was going to be sick. "Eric," she whispered.
